


Inspiration

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confessions, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: When Caspar learns Ignatz is painting a shirtless portrait of Raphael in all his muscley glory, he wants his own copy. But why does everyone seem to think that’s weird?
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Raphael Kirsten
Comments: 32
Kudos: 62





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Raphael Week, for the prompt "strength" (because muscles = strength, right?)

When Caspar and Raphael met up again after being apart for five years, Caspar had grown taller and Raphael had not. But that did not mean much, because Raphael was still Raphael: broad and tall and muscular, the absolute image of strength. Caspar was strong, he  _ knew _ he was, but he didn’t look as strong as he wanted to - and Raphael looked just about as strong as it was possible to look. 

“I guess some people are just taller than others, and nothing can change that,” Caspar grumbled, sitting across from Raphael at lunch one afternoon a few weeks after they’d all reunited. “I’m pretty sure I did everything I could, and I’m still average.” 

“But you’re strong, Caspar, and that’s what  _ really  _ matters,” Raphael said, talking through a mouthful of food. “Being big just means I’m big. But being strong means you’re  _ strong.” _

“I know, but…” Caspar sighed. “Ugh, whatever. I know there’s nothing I can do to help it.” 

“Wanna train with me?”

“I gotta let my food settle a bit. Maybe like an hour?”

“I’ll join you too,” Ignatz piped up. “Not to spar with you, of course, but I’ve got to keep practicing my archery. I’m still a bit rusty.”

“Oh, good!” Raphael grinned. “You know, Ignatz, I’m really glad you’re not avoiding me anymore. It makes me so happy to have you as a friend again!”

“Me too,” Ignatz said. “I’m really sorry about how I was acting.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry - it’s all in the past. By the way, that painting we talked about… when d’you wanna work on it?”

“Raphael, you’re working on a painting?” Caspar asked, curious.

“No, no, not  _ me _ \- can you imagine?” Raphael’s booming laugh filled the dining hall. “Nah, Ignatz is gonna do a painting  _ of _ me. Have you seen his stuff? He’s a great artist!”

Ignatz’s cheeks turned pink. “I - I’m not…”

“You should show me sometime,” Caspar said. “If Raphael says you’re great, I’m sure you are.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone but Ignatz to capture my muscles in all their glory!”

“Your muscles?” Caspar echoed. There were plenty of paintings around Garreg Mach, but none portrayed muscles. The bodies shown were almost always fully armor-clad.

“Yup! I want him to capture my muscles at their finest, for all time!”

“Oh,” Caspar said, and glanced at Ignatz, who was still a little pink-cheeked. “That’s so smart.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Ignatz said quickly. 

And although the conversation changed to other things, Caspar’s mind lingered on the topic of paintings. After lunch, he made his way to the training ground early, hoping to catch Ignatz alone. 

He was stringing his bow when Caspar came up to him. “We don’t talk all that much,” Caspar began, “but I’ve got a request to make.”

“What’s that?”

“You know the painting you were talking about with Raphael? I want one too. I can pay,” he added quickly. “I know painting’s gotta be a lot of work, and I don’t expect it for free.” 

Ignatz brightened immediately. “Of course!” he said. “You can come to my room this evening and I can show you some of the work I’ve done-”

Caspar shook his head. “Nah, if Raphael trusts you, I trust you.” 

“Thank you,” Ignatz said, beaming. “I can begin your portrait as soon as you’d like. When are you available? Do you have any ideas about how you’d like to pose, or what you want your backdrop to be?” 

“Oh, uh - I think you misunderstood me,” Caspar said slowly. “I don’t want a painting of  _ me,  _ I want a copy of your painting of Raphael.”

For a long moment Ignatz stared at him blankly. Caspar began to wonder if he’d said something very strange; he felt the need to explain himself further: “Raphael said you were going to capture his muscles in it, yeah? True to life?”

“Yes…”

“I want a copy of that to hang in my room as, like, a goal! Obviously I can’t be as big as him, but it’s something to aspire to, you know?” Caspar grinned, feeling a bit nervous under Ignatz’s questioning gaze. “You don’t need to make Raphael sit for two portraits, you can just copy the first one.”

“That’s…” Ignatz adjusted his glasses. “Okay. Yes, this is doable.”

“Great!” 

“Does Raphael know?”

“No,” Caspar said, “but I’ll ask him. I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it, but you’re right, it’s better to talk to him about it first, just in case. Thanks Ignatz!”

Caspar wasted no time; as soon as Raphael entered the training area, he called out to him: “Hey, is it alright with you if Ignatz makes an extra copy of the portrait he’s going to paint of you for me?”

“You want a portrait of me?” Raphael asked. “Why?”

“To me, you’re kinda inspirational,” Caspar said. “You’re what I wanna be like. I’ll look at it every day, and it’ll give me motivation to go out and train!”

Raphael’s eyes grew wide. “Caspar, are you serious?”

“Absolutely!”

“That’s… just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I’m - I’m inspirational?” 

“Well, yeah!” Caspar said, closing the distance between them. “You’re what I wish I could look like - big and strong and muscular! So… is it okay with you?”

“Of course!” Raphael said, and threw his arms around Caspar in a crushing hug. It only lasted a moment, but in that moment, Caspar was utterly pinned - completely at Raphael’s mercy. Just more evidence of how strong he was. It sent a shiver down Caspar’s spine. 

“Hear that, Ignatz?” Caspar said. “He doesn’t mind!”

“Yes, I heard,” Ignatz said. “Raphael, when do you want me to start painting?”

“As soon as possible!” Raphael said. Then he turned to Caspar. “Alright, time to start training! You ready?”

“Of course,” Caspar said, and grinned.

\---

The painting, when it was finished, was smaller than Caspar had expected, but it was clear that Ignatz was a talented painter - it looked exactly like Raphael, from the pose to the hair to the muscles themselves, which Caspar knew very well thanks to their frequent sparring sessions. The painting’s size was actually a benefit: instead of having to be hung on the wall, it was small enough that Caspar could set it on his desk or bedside table - even small enough that he could hold it in his hands.

“You know,” Ignatz told him as he handed it over, “yours is actually the original. Raphael’s is the second version.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because, considering it’s going to his little sister, I figured it might be better to put some clothes on him.” Ignatz rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I hope you like it, and thanks for the commission.”

“I do like it!” Caspar said. “Thank  _ you - _ you’re the best!”

He wanted to show it to Raphael, but before he did, Linhardt wandered into Caspar’s room; he went there sometimes to study with him or nap, a bit like a stray cat finding its way into someone’s house unbidden. 

His eyes fell on the portrait, now sitting on Caspar’s bedside table, and Linhardt stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Caspar?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you have a painting of Raphael naked next to your bed?”

“He isn’t naked!” Caspar grabbed the picture, forcing Lin to take a closer look. “Look, he’s wearing his underwear still.”

“That… doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Inspiration!” Caspar said. “I know it’s not possible for my muscles to be as big as his, but I can dream, can’t I? I can look at it and feel motivated!”

Linhardt raised his eyebrows. “But you see the real Raphael daily. You two train together every chance you get. Can’t you just, I don’t know… look at him?”

“We train for, like, two hours. What am I gonna do about the other twenty-two? And what about when we separate? I’m sure we’re not all gonna live at Garreg Mach forever.” But as soon as he spoke the words, Caspar regretted it. Of course he wanted the war to be over, but thinking that far in the future made him sad. He hated the thought of everyone being apart from one another, even if it meant they could carry on with their lives.

“There’s a difference between a painting of a friend to remember them by, and a painting of someone posing shirtless, with their muscles drawn in exquisite detail,” Linhardt said.

_ “Exquisite detail,”  _ Caspar echoed. “Yeah, it is exquisite, isn’t it? I should give Ignatz a tip - he did a darn good job.”

“So Ignatz painted it,” Linhardt said, frowning. “Does Raphael know about this?”

“Of course he knows!” Caspar said. “The picture was his idea in the first place!”

This seemed to confuse Linhardt more. “It was his idea to give you a shirtless painting of himself?”

“No, it was his idea to be painted. I just asked for a copy.”

“I see. Caspar?” 

“Yeah?”

“I feel like this is the sort of thing you should perhaps hide when others come over. It doesn’t matter when it’s  _ me, _ I suppose, but…”

“What are you talking about?” Caspar laughed, but also felt uncomfortable. Why was Linhardt acting like it was so strange? “I’m not embarrassed, and Raphael isn’t either! In fact, when I called him my inspiration, I think it made him really happy!”

Linhardt stared at him for a long moment. “Caspar, are you and Raphael… together? Romantically speaking?”

The question felt like a sucker punch - like a blow that came out of  _ nowhere. _ At first all Caspar could do was stare at Linhardt blankly. “Uh, what?” he said at last. “No! What made you think  _ that?” _

“Do you have feelings for him?”

“Look, this is just about getting  _ inspiration!” _ Caspar said. “I see Ignatz at the cathedral all the time, looking at the statues and paintings there. It’s the same thing!”

“Ignatz is  _ praying,”  _ Linhardt said. “It’s really not the same thing. Look, Caspar, I’m not judging you, and if I’m wrong I apologize, but it doesn’t seem to me as if you’re merely taking  _ inspiration  _ from Raphael’s semi-naked form. It seems more like a crush.”

“A crush!” Caspar felt cold. “That’s…” 

“I apologize,” Linhardt said, handing the painting back and sitting on the floor. “Anyways, I came to your room in the first place because there’s a book I want to read, and Annette and Lysithea are chatting too loudly in the library for me to concentrate.” 

Caspar did not point out that Linhardt had his own room - it never seemed to make a difference. Within seconds Linhardt was absorbed in the book he’d brought, and they barely spoke another word to one another for the rest of the evening; but Caspar kept running that ridiculous, absurd conversation through his mind, again and again, trying to make sense of it.

Was him owning the painting really so strange? Ignatz had been surprised when Caspar had asked for it, and Linhardt sure seemed to think it was weird - but Raphael didn’t, and that was the most important part, wasn’t it? Raphael didn’t mind Caspar looking at a true-to-life illustration of his muscles. He was even happy about it, to judge by his reaction - happy and pleased and flattered, as he should be! There was absolutely no one else that Caspar found so inspirational that he’d pay for a painting of them. He cared deeply about Linhardt, but having the actual Linhardt alone was enough. Sometimes, more than enough.

But as he kept thinking, Caspar began to have a dawning realization, one that made his heart pound and palms sweat. If Raphael was special to him more so than anyone else - if he was inspiring and nice to look at, and Caspar caught himself thinking of him at inopportune times, and wishing he was around when he wasn’t - was that not exactly what Linhardt had been saying all along?

Caspar was lying in bed half-asleep when the thought occurred to him, but it brought him straight back to full wakefulness. He sat bolt upright in bed, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. “Oh,” he said aloud, and felt a lump in his throat. 

Linhardt was right, and Caspar was blind. He wanted to be as muscular and tall as Raphael, yeah, but he also wanted to hang out with Raphael, spar with him, look at him, just  _ be _ with him. Those muscles of his were inspirational and  _ fascinating -  _ Caspar could stare at Raphael training for a long time without getting bored, hypnotized by his raw strength and unexpected gracefulness. 

It was late, but Caspar knew Linhardt would still be awake. He wasn’t in his room, but Caspar found him at the library, reading by candlelight. 

“Caspar?” Linhardt said, raising his eyebrows. “Is everything alright?”

“No!” Caspar found himself very glad it was so late - there was no one else to disturb here. He was too worked up to hope to control the volume of his voice. “I’ve got a problem!”

“I figured,” Linhardt said, setting down his book. “What’s bothering you?”

“You were right!” Caspar said, the words coming out all at once like a flood. “You were right! I  _ do  _ have a crush on Raphael! I didn’t want the painting just for inspiration, I like looking at him and being with him and I really really like him! Linhardt, what do I do?”

There was a long pause - it seemed to take a few seconds for Linhardt to comprehend what Caspar had said. Then he spoke: “Caspar, you don’t have to  _ do _ anything.”

“But I want to tell him. Lin, I  _ need _ to.” Caspar felt his hands clenching into fists. The idea of keeping something this important a secret was laughable. Caspar could not do it, could barely even hope to try. Once a thought was in his head, it bounced around like crazy til it exploded out of his mouth - that was just how he worked.

“What do you hope to gain by telling him?”

“I don’t know!” Caspar said. “I don’t hope to gain anything - I just want to tell him!”

“Then tell him,” Linhardt said.

“How?”

Linhardt shrugged. “You could say more or less the same thing you just said to me, couldn’t you? ‘Raphael, I like being with you and I really like you, I have a crush on you’ - something like that?”

“Yeah,” Caspar said, sighing. “Ah, Lin, I’m so nervous!”

“Well, Raphael’s motto seems to be  _ forgive and forget.  _ Even if he thinks it’s strange, I have no doubt you will not lose him as a friend over this.”

“Yeah,” Caspar said, nodding. “You’re right.” It was another reason why he longed to be more like Raphael, who did not hold a grudge and refused to let his resentments linger. “Thanks Lin!”

“Now go to bed,” Linhardt said sternly. “I’m sure you’re going to confess as soon as you see Raphael tomorrow, and if you’re running on only a few hours of sleep, it will be that much worse.”

“Thanks,” Caspar said again. “You’re the best!” Linhardt rolled his eyes; he was already lifting his book back up and picking up where he’d left off as if Caspar had never interrupted him.

Caspar crept out of the library as quietly as he could and made his way back to his room, knowing Linhardt’s advice to sleep was the logical thing to do. But when he got to bed, Caspar could only lie there staring up into the dark, practically quivering in fear and excitement. Everything made so much more sense now - but, with uncertainty weighing heavily on him, everything was so frightening. Tomorrow things would be different, one way or another. He only had to carry this secret for one more night.

\---

“Hey, Caspar!” 

“Hey, Raphael.” 

They were alone at the training grounds. It was early and a free day, so they had the whole place to themselves. Caspar’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest with fear. 

“Ignatz said he gave you the picture yesterday,” Raphael said. “How’d you like it?”

“It looks great. He did a really good job.”

“He always does! I’m glad you like it!” He shot Caspar a broad, happy smile. Normally Caspar would have smiled back on impulse, but now he felt his mouth twisting downwards. Briefly he thought of Linhardt’s words from the day before:  _ You don’t have to do anything. _ For a moment the thought of swallowing down his words and going about his day as if nothing had changed appealed deeply to Caspar - but no, that would  _ not _ do. He was not a coward, and he would not hide for another instant longer.

Caspar took a deep breath and said, “Raphael, I really, really like you!”

Raphael, who’d been wrapping his fists in preparation for sparring, stopped and turned. “I like you too, Caspar,” he said, though there was a quizzical note in his voice, an unspoken question.

Caspar had to go on. “Raphael, I  _ really  _ like you,” he said, staring up at the sky because it was too hard to look into Raphael’s eyes; he was afraid of seeing distaste there. Better to see nothing. “I didn’t realize it until yesterday, but I don’t just admire you. I like you in a different way. Like, you know - I…” Struggling to find the words, he trailed off, and dared to glance at Raphael. What he saw stopped him mid-sentence.

Raphael’s eyes were wide, wider than Caspar had seen them. He was not smiling; his mouth was a thin, flat line. Caspar felt his heart sink. “Raphael, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t  _ mean _ to start feeling this way, it just kinda crept up on me!”

Raphael took a step closer to him. “Are you saying you like me in a romantic kinda way? That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Caspar’s cheeks were burning. “Yes,” he said quietly, taking a step back; but Raphael stepped forward again, coming even closer.

“Caspar,” Raphael said, “that makes me very, very happy to hear.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You’re happy? But you aren’t smiling…”

“I can hardly believe it,” Raphael said. “I’m so happy I can’t even smile. I’m in shock!”

Caspar looked up at him. They were very close now, and he had to crane his neck, Raphael was so tall. Raphael’s eyes were still wide, but from this close Caspar could see they were oddly shiny, almost as if… 

“Are you crying?!”

“I really like you too, Caspar!” Raphael said, and sniffled. “I was really happy when you said you admired me, and that you wanted a picture of me. But I didn’t even wanna let myself hope you liked me the same way I liked you. I didn’t wanna say anything because you’re my training buddy, my friend - I didn’t want to lose that by making you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m so stupid. I’m  _ so stupid!” _ Caspar laughed in disbelief and looked off to the side, because looking at Raphael’s overflowing eyes was threatening to make him cry, too. “I didn’t realize I felt anything special until Lin asked me if I had a crush on you  _ last night.  _ And you’ve known about your own feelings all this time?”

“You aren’t stupid!” Raphael said, his voice unexpectedly loud. “It’s okay that it took you longer. I’m just happy you told me.” He paused. “Caspar?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?”

“Yeah!” Caspar said, and practically threw himself into Raphael’s arms. It felt much as it had before; Raphael’s hug was powerful, and Caspar was completely enveloped. But there was something else there, something new: Caspar felt his stomach turn over with butterflies at the touch, and when the bare skin of their arms brushed, he held back a shiver - not of nerves, but of excitement and joy.

This hug lasted longer than their last one. Caspar wouldn’t have minded if it had lasted forever. When they separated, the air was cold on his skin. “I know we were going to train,” Caspar said slowly, “but do you want to maybe come to my room for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Raphael said, sounding a little breathless, “I would.”

\---

After they stepped inside his room, Caspar shut his door behind them. For a long moment the two of them did nothing but look at each other. Caspar’s whole body felt hot, like all the energy he’d been ready to burn off in training was surging up inside of him; he felt like he might explode if  _ something _ didn’t happen. 

“I really liked it when you hugged me,” Caspar said, because it was true and because he had to break the silence somehow.

At his words, Raphael’s face broke out into a smile. “I liked it too.”

“Could you maybe… do it again?”

“Yeah,” Raphael said, stepping towards him, “I’d really like to.”

This time Caspar embraced him back, and when they broke apart they didn’t separate all the way - Caspar just pulled his head back and looked up into Raphael’s face and said, “I’d really like to kiss you!”

It was a very, very good thing they’d already established that Raphael felt much the same was as Caspar did, because Caspar knew he wouldn’t be able to stop these thoughts from zipping out his mouth a second after they popped into his head. 

Raphael looked momentarily surprised at the words, then his face relaxed into another smile, so contagious Caspar smiled too, despite the butterflies still churning in his stomach. “Really?” Raphael said. “You - you want to do that?”

“Yeah,” Caspar said, now pulling entirely out of Raphael’s grip. “Here - sit down on the edge of my bed.”

Raphael did as he said without question. Now they were roughly the same height: perfect. Raphael had sat down with his legs spread, which allowed Caspar to actually stand  _ between _ them. He felt Raphael’s thighs on either side of his hips and had to resist the urge to touch them, to run his hands up Raphael’s legs and feel the powerful muscles there.  _ Soon,  _ he told himself. For now, there were other things he wanted to take care of first - namely, kissing.

Caspar looked into Raphael’s eyes and took a deep breath. Then he placed his hands on Raphael’s shoulders for support, leaned forward, and kissed him.

Caspar had never kissed anyone before, and wasn’t sure if he was doing it right. It  _ felt _ good, though; Raphael’s lips were soft, and his shoulders beneath Caspar’s hands were broad and firm. Caspar found himself squeezing Raphael’s muscles without meaning to - and a second later Raphael brought his hands up to wrap around Caspar’s back, and, oh, with Raphael’s arms and legs combined all holding him tight, Caspar felt so wonderfully pinned, small in a way he never thought he’d enjoy being.

He couldn’t help but let out a moan, and even though most of it was muffled by the kiss, Raphael must have heard it anyways; he pulled Caspar in even tighter, pressed his lips against Caspar’s more firmly, until Caspar felt utterly at his mercy. It was such an incredible feeling that he could hardly stand it, and pulled away just to take a deep, gasping breath. He’d been trying to breathe through his nose, but with everything going on, it was hard to remember to do so.

“Caspar?” Raphael asked, his voice low. “Are you alright?”

Was he  _ alright? _ Caspar laughed weakly. “Um, yeah. Definitely. Way, way more than alright.” 

As soon as he’d caught his breath, he surged forward to continue the kiss. Caspar felt they were both learning as they went; Raphael did something with his jaw that felt nice, and Caspar did it too, and then Caspar opened his mouth and all of a sudden Raphael’s tongue was  _ inside his mouth- _

Again it was almost too much; Caspar moaned and squeezed Raphael’s shoulders as if to ground himself. This was something he hadn’t known he wanted until it was happening; Caspar felt like his legs were half a second from buckling beneath him as Raphael held him tight and kissed him. 

When they broke apart again, Caspar realized he was very, very hard. This was not really surprising, considering this was the sexiest thing Caspar could even  _ imagine _ happening to him, but he wasn’t sure what Raphael would think if he brought it up, and he couldn’t tell if Raphael was hard, too. But he was more than content just to kiss Raphael again; he could take care of the other problem himself, later. 

It was difficult, though, because his body was telling him he  _ had _ to take care of it  _ now. _ Caspar had to consciously hold himself back from rutting against Raphael’s body, and in his effort to keep still his mouth went slack - he stopped kissing back.

Raphael pulled away again, looking at him with concern. “Is this still okay?”

“Yes,” Caspar said. His voice hardly sounded like his own, it was so breathy, so  _ desperate. _ “Yes, it’s really okay!”

“We can stop if you want…”

“I don’t want to stop!” And, completely without meaning to, Caspar glanced downwards. “Oh,” he said, surprised, “you’re hard too!”

Raphael followed his gaze. “I guess I am,” he said, as if he hadn’t realized; then he looked up at Caspar, his eyes dark. “And you…”

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m getting  _ really _ into it,” Caspar said, and laughed nervously. “Sorry. I mean, I didn’t try to! You know how it is. And I don’t mind that you are! In fact I kinda like it! So don’t worry - and of course we can keep kissing-”

“Caspar?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I touch you?”

Caspar swallowed. “Yes.” There was nothing in the world he wanted more at that moment in time; his body was practically screaming for it.

“Do you wanna lie down? That might work better.”

Caspar nodded. They broke apart, and Raphael rose to his feet. Caspar lay down on his back; he expected Raphael to lie next to him, but instead he climbed  _ onto _ him. Raphael’s arms and legs were supporting most of his weight, but Caspar still felt completely pinned - and, oh, it was  _ so good. _

“Is this alr-”

_ “Yes,” _ Caspar said, and kissed him. He shifted so one of Raphael’s thighs was between his legs, and finally he got the friction he’d been craving; he thrust his hips upwards and groaned. 

The position meant one of his own legs was between Raphael’s, too, and Caspar raised it to press against Raphael. That made Raphael pull away from the kiss; their faces were close enough that Caspar felt Raphael’s breath on his cheek.

“That feels really good,” Raphael said.

Caspar moved his leg again, and both of them exhaled in pleasure. Raphael picked up the rhythm too, being so cautious that he barely put an ounce of his own weight on Caspar’s body. They rocked against one another, still fully dressed, no longer kissing now - they didn’t have the concentration for that anymore; Caspar was moaning into Raphael’s ear, the friction almost too much, but so, so good. And having Raphael on top of him, moving against him, drawing pleasure from his body… it was almost more than Caspar could take. 

Raphael came first, a shudder wracking his body, and Caspar increased his own rhythm to match. Raphael’s thigh between his legs was broad and rock-hard, and it felt  _ right, _ somehow, to bring himself to orgasm against it. Caspar arched his back and gritted his teeth as the feeling coursed through his body; he was barely aware of anything but that feeling, white-hot and wonderful. Raphael was looking at him almost reverently, but Caspar was way too far gone to be even a bit self-conscious.

When he was done, they looked at one another for a long moment, both still panting. Then Raphael rolled to the side so he was lying next to Caspar instead of on top of him. “Caspar?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you told me how you felt earlier, and I’m really glad we did what we did together.” 

“Me too. But…” Caspar sighed. “We should get up. We’re wet, and it’s going to start feeling pretty gross soon.”

“Yeah.” 

Caspar sat up, wincing at the wet spot on his pants. “I wish I had clothes I could loan you, but nothing I own would fit.”

“That’s okay.” Raphael sat up too, moving to the edge of the bed. “I’ll head back to my room and change. And then…”

“And then?” Caspar echoed.

“Would you wanna spar with me?” 

“Of course!” Caspar would literally never turn down the opportunity. “I’ll be up there as soon as I change!”

At the door, Raphael ducked down and kissed Caspar once, almost shyly. “And then later we can come back here again,” he said. “If you want, that is.”

“Of  _ course!”  _ Raphael might be feeling shy about it, but Caspar certainly wasn’t. “And then we can eat and spar some more and do it all again. It’ll be the best weekend ever.”

When Raphael left, he had one of his big, infectious grins on his face, and Caspar couldn’t help feeling just as happy. His eyes caught sight of the portrait on his bedside table, and he had to laugh. The painting was nice, of course, and he was glad he’d gotten it - it had indirectly caused this whole thing to happen - but the actual Raphael was a thousand times better. 

And next time, maybe they could even take their clothes off, and Caspar could ask Raphael if he could touch his muscles; there were so many things he wanted to try, a whole world of possibilities open before him… 

But now, he had to change - it was time to spar. Caspar tossed his pants on the floor, threw on a fresh pair, and ran out of his room, towards the training grounds where he knew Raphael would be waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)


End file.
